The last of the summer cherries
by shouldbecleaning
Summary: A valentine for jeaboo1. The first bite of fruit can be sweet, or tart or even bitter. But you won't know if you don't try.


_**This story was written as requested by kind and sweet Jeannie Boom. Jeannie worked tirelessly on both Fandom For Mental Health and the Babies at the Border compilations. It was a honour to take her story idea, based on her family's history and make into a short story. **_

_**Tissues might be a good idea as this story made Beachcomberlc tear up as she edited, shaped and polished. CSG made a gorgeous banner for us. I thank the both of them for their help and hand-holding.**_

_**Happy Valentine's day. I hope you share it with the one you love.**_

New fangled, modern train cars just don't make the same noises they used to forty years ago back in the sixties. There's no pleasing clickety-clack and toot-toot with electric cars. The ride is too smooth and too fast. Gone are the days of leisurely travel for the experience of it. Gone are the days of dressing properly in public and behaving like good folk. Every other passenger who walked by had headphones jammed in their ears, cut off and separated from the others. They wore baggy, ill-fitting flannel shirts and dirty-looking jeans. You couldn't tell the boys from the girls, everyone looked the same with long grubby hair and bored expressions on their faces. Edward Cullen sat in his seat and felt his irritation grow, pulling his mouth down in a grimace as his brow furrowed. He wasn't sure he would ever like anything in this new millennium. Kids today just didn't care about the simple things, like the magic of traveling by rail or sweet cherries picked straight from the tree, not shipped from countries far away. They didn't care about evenings spent watching the sun set over your own land after a good, home-cooked meal, a cold beer in your hand. This generation, everything to them was disposable or divorceable. They couldn't appreciate years spent working on something like a farm or a marriage. Living though the ups and downs, the hard times and the great ones. He swiped a tear from his eye before it could fall. Grown men, senior men didn't cry in public; Edward wanted to save his tears for the privacy of his bedroom.

Startled by the beeping of his watch, Edward struggled to turn the fool thing off. He checked his pockets and stood up. It was easier to get the small bag of cherries out of his jacket pocket while standing, as long as the train held steady for a moment. Lost in memories, he ate the cherries, stashing the pits in his closed hand while barely noticing the taste of the fruit. When he was finished, he walked to the gangway connection of the train. Years ago they used to be more open, slightly dangerous, but more thrilling. Now they were tightly sealed vestibules no one would be afraid of crossing, not even a farmer in his mid-sixties. Edward had made note earlier in his journey that the car he was riding in had a small gap, perfect for his purpose, about four inches of open space ripped through the accordion netting near the floor. He stood in the gangway, waiting for words to come to him. He felt the occasion needed a poignant speech full of love, but all that was coming to him was anger. He was more angry than he had been in his entire life, not at anyone in particular, not even at the disease that haunted him; just mad at the world.

The door behind him whooshed open and Edward whirled around, feeling guilty that he was in an area where he wasn't supposed to be and planning something not exactly sanctioned by the railroad. A young man, scruffy but not as grungy as most, walked through the gangway. Trailing behind him, her hand in his, was a young lady, not dressed in the current style of sloppy, but in a tidy skirt and pretty blouse. The pair apologized to Edward as they passed him, jarring him by calling him _sir._ This generation usually lacked civility; even Edward's kids rarely called him _sir_. The young man went so far as offering Edward help with the door to the next car. He refused, but was touched by the fleeting kindness of the boy. The girl looked at the boy as if he'd hung the moon and made each star in the sky by himself. Edward had seen that kind of love before and it threw him further into his memories for a while.

The weather was warmer than usual that June of 1961, or it may have just felt that way to Edward. Nursing a weak stomach and a bad headache, he boarded the train in Chicago, happy to have the big city at his back. He'd only been away for a few days, but found himself missing his family's farm, the small town of Sheldon, Iowa and the simpler life he led there. They passed by small station after small station, stopping for a moment or two at most of them. Farmland laid out in big squares, laundry drying on the line and the occasional child running and waving at the train was the backdrop for the whole journey. Edward wondered if it was the same on the other line. If he had taken the other route would he have seen the same kind of farmhouses and farmers tilling the same land; wheat, corn or potatoes, big spread or small operation, animals or none as far as the eye could see or would it have been entirely different? He considered missing his stop and continuing on to the coast, through Wyoming to Oregon or even California. But Edward Cullen's father did not raise a quitter or a deserter. He didn't raise a man to run or dream his life away.

At the ripe age of twenty-three, Edward was travelling back home from the wedding of his college pal. James was not the first of his friends to get married; there were a few more bachelors like Edward, but this wedding struck a chord. James was two years older than him and had attended a few semesters at Northwestern before being expelled.

James was very rich. His father forced him to continue his education and the University of Omaha was the only nearby school that would accept James and his wild ways. He and Edward, along with several others, graduated last year from the school of business. Edward was certain James would have worked his way to the top of the Chicago business world eventually, but James got married instead. Sure, he had taken a junior position at his father's firm,but for James to settle down so quickly, well it was mind-boggling for Edward. He guessed that Victoria's family had a finger in some pie or another, and James' rise through the ranks would be much quicker thanks to his father-in-law's influence.

Despite thinking marriage was something he'd like to avoid for the next couple of years, Edward was happy to attend James' wedding in Chicago. Edward's father needed him to take a bigger role in running the farm, especially now that he had a degree in business. Going to a fancy wedding in the big city was Edward's last fling at having some fun before knuckling down and working for his father.

It was the society wedding of the year. No expense was spared. The bride told everyone she came in contact with that her dress was inspired by Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy's wedding dress. In fact, the entire wedding had a Kennedy flair to it, right down to the clam chowder starter dish very few of the guests ate. The season was far too hot and the soup too rich for a midwestern summer wedding, but it was what the bride wanted and Victoria always got what she wanted, James included.

It was one of the longest, most confusing weeks of Edward's life. In his heart he was a farmer, a reluctant farmer, but a farmer nonetheless. He could have fought his father and become a lawyer or a doctor, but he didn't. The Cullens had been farming in Iowa for generations, each adding more land or better crop knowledge to the last generation's work. The Cullen farm was large and productive. His older sister had a house on the property with her husband and children. Edward and his younger brothers were expected to join in and build their own families on Cullen land while working the fields. The problem was, Edward didn't know what else he could be if not a farmer. He had no burning ambition to be anything. The only thing he did know was he didn't want to marry a pudgy corn-fed farmer's daughter from one of the neighboring spreads, raise a bunch of freckle-faced kids and ride a tractor for the rest of his life. He was firm on that. He wanted more adventure in his life.

Or at least, so he thought before the wedding in Chicago. There was plenty of adventure there and it left a sour taste in Edward's mouth. Or perhaps it was the gin that left a sour taste. Edward had never drank so much in one week . There was champagne with orange juice at breakfast, shots of rye in the coffee, beer with luncheon, cocktails and wine at dinner, after-dinner port and brandy, and then a nightcap to end the evening. Edward was certain his liver was angry with him and plotting revenge. He was also certain his mother would never forgive him if she knew half of what they got up to while in Chicago.

James took them to not one, but three different clubs for his last night of bachelor freedom. The first was a cigar bar. Edward enjoyed the occasional cigarette, maybe once or twice a week. There was something about having a beer and a smoke after a long day's work that struck his fancy, but Edward had never tried cigars before. He vowed he never would again, either, after having tried one. James laughed at his hayseed friend not enjoying a hand-rolled Cuban, but Edward refused to let it bother him. The foul taste lingered in his mouth and burnt his nostrils. Even the expensive bourbon James gave him did nothing to rid him of the effects of the cigar.

James' next stop in his bachelor tour was the Playboy Club on Walton Street. James and his friends acted like fools with the young lady who served their table. Edward was appalled by their behaviour. Granted, it's not every day or every club that allows young ladies to wait tables while wearing skimpy bathing costumes, but still, they were supposed to be educated gentlemen, not randy boors. He was glad they only stayed for two drinks. Edward stayed back as they were leaving to apologize to Tanya, their waitress. His father always said to treat girls the way you'd want some guy to treat your sister. And Edward told Tanya that much as he handed her an extra five dollars. She told him she'd gotten much worse than James and his roving hands and leering eyes before. Tanya mentioned she was saving up to move to New York and work on Broadway as a dancer, and the extra tip was a big help to her plans. She shook his hand and thanked him. The exchange left him feeling like a cad because he couldn't help but notice her lovely, ample breasts quivering enticingly. He wasn't used to seeing that much of a young lady's chest uncovered. The women in his family and the girls at school dressed modestly. Not that it bothered him; he really enjoyed the sight, but it was jarring.

The last club James took them to was vulgar. Edward had been titillated by the barely dressed ladies at the Playboy Club, but the topless dancers at the Velvet Lounge were unpleasant, to say the least. He was very happy they left their underwear on and only took off their brassieres.

Edward loved women. He loved their shape, their scent, the way they move. He loved sex, dancing close with a girl and everything a man should like. But he preferred a little mystery, some hint of bosom, the swish of a full skirts and shapely calves peeking out from petticoats. Although, he also really liked the fitted trousers a lot of girls wore lately. He just didn't want it thrust in his face, nameless and without emotion. There had been a steady girl for a while in college. She was just the right type, tall, cultured and blond. She introduced him to her parents and then to her bed. They ended things six months later. He wasn't in love with her, but Edward would always remember her very fondly as his first serious girlfriend. He'd dated a bit in high school and college, but never found _the_ girl; the right girl, the one he'd spend the rest of his life with, forsaking all others. Edward rested easy, knowing there was lots of time to find that.

The topless dancers looked equal parts predatory, dissociated and terrified. They walked the stage, prancing on high heels, sharp and pointed like weapons. Their pale skin was oily-looking. Cruel, vulgar men were leering at them with hungry eyes. The room stank of smoke, sweat and spunk. James and the rest of his bachelor party plunked themselves in the front row with fists full of dollar bills and waited for the girls to dance over to them. Edward watched for a while until he felt safe to leave without getting ridiculed. He walked back to the hotel alone, and took the longest, hottest shower possible when he got back to his room, but couldn't get the scent of that last club out of his nostrils. It was too late at night, but Edward kind of wanted to call his mother or sisters to apologize on behalf of his sex. He didn't sleep well that night.

The wedding went off without a hitch. Victoria looked lovely in her gown; James looked sober in his tailcoat and striped trousers. His groomsmen managed to be presentable after their night of debauchery. They, save for Edward, were all drunk again as soon as possible when the reception began. Mother after mother dragged their marriageable daughters over to parade them in front of the groomsmen. Edward was forced to dance with several Beckys, Bitsys and a few Beulahs before he was allowed to eat his dinner. The near endless cavalcade of available women and pushy parents solidified Edward's notion to wait a few years before marrying. He didn't need the hassle right now. And he definitely did not need a society debutante as his fiancee. The girls were insipid, vapid and unappealing. They kept telling him how handsome he was, a fact he didn't give two shits about. They gushed over his business degree and quite a few laughed at his plan to run the family farm. In fact, you could see the greedy light leave their eyes when he mentioned his future career. Edward knew he might never be a millionaire from farming, but he also knew a smart Iowa farmer could make a good living from the land. Who were these girls to look down on him for that? Edward was fed up with the over-powdered, overdressed and over-Aqua-Netted female population of Chicago.

Climbing onto the train, Edward was happy again. He had a newfound appreciation for home, the farm and his family. He found a seat and stared out at the platforms across from him. He'd go home and talk with his father. He planned to take over the business side of the farm, the bill- paying and ordering, crop rotation and the books. He'd leave the working of the land to his brothers. In a few years, he'd find his tall blond beauty and get married. Until then, he'd make the Cullen farm the best producing in the county, maybe even the state. After the train had left the station, the motion of it lulled him to sleep.

About an hour into the trip, Edward was rudely awoken when the man beside him lit up a thick cigar. The acrid smell reminded him of the cigar bar James had taken them to and it made Edward want to vomit. He apologized and got up from his seat. Trying to get as far away from the cigar smell as he could, Edward walked through two cars until he found an empty seat. As luck would have it, it was a backwards facing seat in the middle of the car. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Try as he might, he couldn't fall asleep again. The movement of the train and the sounds around him kept him alert.

A candy butcher went by and Edward flagged him down. He bought two Baby Ruths, two Junior Mints and a Zagnut. He didn't usually spend that much on candy, but the butcher had a deal. If you bought five bars, you got a free box of a new candy that had just come out called Lemonhead. He really only wanted a box of the Junior Mints, but fell for the butcher's spiel. He'd give the extra bars to his younger brother and the lemon candies to his mother. She loved lemon-flavoured sweets. And Edward loved his mother.

Childish giggling caught his attention and Edward looked around for the kid. His view was limited as he craned his neck, but he couldn't find the source of the laughter. It was a pity, he liked kids. They were fun and always brutally honest. Edward appreciated that about them.

He heard the laughter again and the shushing noise of an adult following quickly after. Leaning forward in his seat, he could just see the brim of a white straw hat, the gentle curve of a long neck, a sloping shoulder clothed in a white dress with a pattern of flowers or something like that, and a lightly tanned forearm ending in a lace-trimmed glove. Edward allowed his eyes to trail down further to see folds and folds of wide skirts and a short white sock inside a sensibly heeled shoe. As he watched, the girl raised her hand, the elbow of which stuck out into the aisle, up to about where her mouth would be. Then he heard the giggle. The girl bent over, slightly out of his sightline towards the window seat, sat up and shushed the giggling. He watched this little dance over and over until the girl reached into her pocket, also on the aisle side and withdrew a handkerchief. The girl pressed it to her mouth and rocked back and forth.

Edward was so absorbed by the goings-on just a few rows ahead of him, he stood to offer his assistance. He didn't want the child to go unattended if the mother, guardian or seatmate was ill. He also worried that if she was ill and vomited in the passenger car, the smell would cause him to be sick as well.

As he walked up to the girl, the situation became much worse than he thought. The handkerchief she was holding to her mouth began to stain red as he approached. She had part of it bunched in her gloved hand, but the peak was quickly becoming saturated. Edward dropped to his knee at her side.

And there he was lost. Edward looked into the biggest deep brown eyes he had ever seen. They were full of warmth and laughter, with a hint of concern. As they took him in, the look of them changed to shock and wonder. The little boy beside her started laughing again.

"Are you all right, miss? Should I get the conductor?"

The young lady frantically shook her head and waved her other hand.

A buckle in the rail caused the train to jolt. Edward maintained his footing, but the girl lurched forward and something shot out of her mouth. Edward, having lettered in baseball in high school, reflexively caught the projectile in his hand before it could hit him in the chest. He opened his hand and look down to find a wet cherry in his palm.

Edward looked back at the girl in time to see her unload her cheeks of several cherries into her little white handkerchief. The little boy roared with laughter, clutching his sides and rocking in his seat.

"Hush up, Emmett." The young lady hissed at the boy. Turning back to Edward she fixed an apologetic smile on her face.

"Thank you for your assistance, mister. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, but we're fine."

She carefully reached out her hand and plucked the damp cherry from Edward's palm. A tingle of warmth ran across his hand and up his arm as the tips of her gloved fingers gently brushed his skin.

"Are you sure? I thought you were getting sick."

"No, we're just playing around." Her cheeks began to colour and she lowered her eyes.

"I'm Edward Cullen." He introduced himself, taking care to rub his hand clean on the back of his chinos before offering it to her.

"I'm Bella," She lightly placed her hand in his. The tingle increased tenfold. Edward could only imagine the feeling if she had not been wearing gloves. He was sure it would be electric. He felt caught in her gaze, happily trapped in her soft brown eyes

"I'm Emmett." The little boy piped in, breaking the connection between them. "We were eating cherries. I picked them myself from a really high tree in the backyard of Nana's house. Nana said no more will grow this year. I love cherries. Do you like cherries, Mister Edward?"

"I do, but strawberries are my favourite." Edward turned his attention back to Bella.

"We were staying in Joliet, but I wasn't allowed to go see the jail. We got to sleep outside in a room with a roof and no walls. Have you ever done that, Edward?"

"I can't say that I have. That must have been very exciting for you and your mom."

Emmett laughed again, over-exaggerated and silly.

"Aunt Bella's not my mom, she's my auntie. My mom is my mom. She's at home. I got to take this big boy trip with Aunt Bella by myself. She's fun."

"Well, that's good news. I'm glad Auntie Bella is fun." Edward quirked a smile at the boy and glanced at the young lady out of the corner of his eye. He was delighted when she blushed, colour blooming across her cheek bones.

"Auntie Bella? I have to make-." Emmett hushed whisper carried through the car, causing several nearby adults to smile, Edward included. Edward offered to escort the boy, but Bella declined, not quite ready to entrust this strange man with her favourite nephew. Bella place her cherry-filled hanky into the basket beside her and stood, holding a hand out for Emmett. He led the way to the washroom, his aunt trailing behind.

Edward was surprised at the delicate slip of a girl who, when standing, barely reached his chin. He wanted to tuck her under his arm and keep her there, safe from the rest of the world. Watching her walk away, her very slender waist and the twitch of her skirts enthralled him. Her light cotton dress was a similar style to what his sisters wore, but somehow he hadn't ever appreciated one like this before. The collar and bands at her elbow were pure white and the flowers he'd noticed before were sweet pink rosebuds, upon closer inspection. He watched the whole time they walked away, and waited for their return. Emmett ran up the aisle with a wide grin on his face. Bella walked back more sedately with a shy smile.

The little boy ran down the aisle of the train and threw himself into place, nearly upsetting the small picnic basket nestled into the dip between the seats. Bella tried to be graceful and slide into her seat, however, her foot caught and jerked out from under her. She tipped almost ass over teakettle, landing safely in Edward's waiting arms. She let out a gasp before thanking him, her face heating with a fierce blush.

Biting his tongue to stop from blurting "_I'll always catch you if you fall",_ Edward kept his comment to himself, knowing it was too soon and too much for a first time meeting. He meant every word, but it was far too soon for such sweet nothings. Taking a step forward to help brace her, Edward found his foot also sliding across the floor. The two of them slid sideways and ended up half lying on the seat, pinning Emmett to the window as the train jolted on the tracks.

Emmett squealed with laughter as the grownups struggled to stand. Edward had to brace himself by putting his hand flat on the floor. The floor was bumpy and when he was standing, he glance at his palm. Stuck to his skin in several places were cherry pits, sticky, red and brown cherry pits and one green stem. A few more were stuck to his pant legs where he had kneeled to get up. He looked over to see Bella with her hands covering her face, her shoulders shaking.

Edward brushed his hands together, knocking the pits off before attending to the knee of his chinos. Emmett was still laughing and Bella still hiding.

Getting ahold of herself, Bella peeked out from behind her hands. Her eyes were dancing with mischief.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know where to keep the pits, I thought there would be a place for garbage. Somehow it made sense to spit them out on the floor. I was going to hide them under the seats before we got off the train. Emmett thought it was great fun. I'm mortified."

Unable to control himself any longer, Edward burst into a loud guffaw, which set Emmett into a higher pitched set of giggles. Bella covered her face again, but shook with laughter. Edward slid down the wall of the train until he was crouching on the floor in front of the giddy pair.

He tried to picture this proper looking young lady spitting, but couldn't bring it to mind. It all made sense now, the way she kept moving before he came to check on her. Then he remembered her unloading several cherries from her mouth when he first walked up to her. This he could picture, this prim, pretty girl, dressed in her fine travelling clothes, her cheeks stuffed with cherries like a squirrel with his fall hoard of nuts. Edward laughed even louder. Bella had to shush him to keep from drawing further attention to the trio. Taking out his own handkerchief, Edward swept the pits under the seats and out of sight. Emmett, suddenly tired, crawled into his aunt's lap.

Bella moved herself and Emmett over to the window seat and offered Edward her seat. They chatted the rest of the ride as Emmett napped. Turns out Bella was only a couple of years younger than Edward. He had been joshing, calling her Emmett's mother. He was just fishing to see if she was married or attached. She'd looked far too young for marriage, in his opinion, but she was all of twenty years old, almost twenty-one to his twenty-three.

They grew up just a few miles from each other, Edward in Sheldon, Iowa and Bella in the smaller town of George. They might have crossed paths at any time, but fate waited until now. Edward thought of all the football games in high school, the travelling fairs or church socials where he could have met Bella before. He wondered if his father knew hers, if they ever did business.

The Swan farm raised chickens and grew corn. Bella was the corn-fed farmer's daughter Edward had derided in his mind before. But she was so much more to him. She'd finished high school and been accepted at the University of Iowa. She didn't attend, though. She was needed on the farm too much, and it was enough for her to just be accepted. In the winter she worked at the five-and-dime in town for a little extra spending money. The more she talked, the deeper Edward fell in love. He kept his attraction to himself, not wanting to scare her, but he knew he'd marry this girl one day.

By the time the train pulled into the Sioux Falls, South Dakota station, Bella had given Edward her address and he promised to pay a call soon.

The whole drive home with his father, Edward thought about Bella. He thought about his parting handshake with Emmett, how he pumped the little boy's arm up and down exaggeratedly until he laughed. He remembered the warm feeling that crept up his arm as he shook Bella's hand in parting. Rubbing his left thumb over his right palm in an effort to stir the sparking feeling he got when her hand was in his, he grinned to himself. He'd get through his chores as fast as possible in the morning so he could be sitting with her on the porch as twilight fell.

And he did. They sat on her porch, on a whitewashed swing with fresh lemonade in tall glasses beside them. He left for home by 9:30 every night.

On his third visit, Edward raised the courage to hold her hand in his. He wanted to do so much more, but didn't want to rush her. Edward wanted to prove just how serious he was about courting her by taking his time. Bella kissed him on the cheek that night as he left.

Edward kissed Bella for the first time two weeks later. He'd been to see her every other day since they parted on the platform. Bella had been to Sunday dinner at his house and met his parents. His brothers and sisters loved her and his mother was very impressed. She got along with them perfectly. He didn't know what he would have done if they didn't like her or she them. His head swam with how quickly she became the most important person in his life.

He knew she was getting concerned about his dithering around. He noticed her sighing a lot more at the end of each visit. Bella held him a bit tighter every time he left. Usually, he said his good nights on the porch, Bella on the top step and Edward one step down. They were closer in height that way. He'd hold her waist or hips, lean in and kiss her chin, her cheek or her forehead. Then she'd wrap her arms around his shoulders and give him a hug. Invariably, her fingers found themselves in his hair and his itched to roam over her back or possibly her bottom. He'd bury his head in her neck and breathe her in. Bella always smelled good, like cookies or fruit, sweet somehow. Edward had taken to wearing a bit of his dad's Old Spice to cover the smell of a day's hard work. He'd stopped using Brylcreem when they started spending time together so Bella could run her fingers in his hair and not get them messy.

It was the single best moment of Edward's life to date when his lips touched hers. He didn't want it to end. Anticipating since dinner, Edward was distracted all evening. He'd even parked his truck so he could kiss her in private. By 9:15 he was a jumble of nerves. Grabbing Bella's hand, he all but pulled her down the stairs to the driver's side of his Chevy. She pressed her back to the driver's door as he leaned in. At first, it was a soft kiss, pure and gentle with just their lips touching, not moving. It was nice, but Edward wanted more. He shuffled his feet forward, closing the gap between them. He could feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. Tilting his head, he kissed her harder, moving his lips against hers, taking first her top lip and then her lower lip between his. Running his tongue along the seam of her lips and raising his hand to rest on her hip, he leaned impossibly closer. Bella opened her mouth to his, letting his tongue explore. Edward groaned in pleasure. He'd been a fool to wait this long for a proper kiss. He regretted all the time he'd wasted when he could have been kissing Bella. He promised himself he'd never let another day go by without a good and proper kiss with her.

Mrs. Swan called to her daughter, asking if Edward had gone because it was too quiet on the porch. Slowing down and wrapping his arms around Bella, Edward had to laugh a little at the interruption. He was glad it was Mrs. Swan and not Mr. Swan to part them. Mr. Swan was a barrel of a man who had the stare of a sheriff interrogating a criminal. His love for his daughter showed in his face. He grilled Edward about his education, his skills, his prospects and plans. In short, Mr. Swan scared the shit out of him.

There were many more kisses after that first one, each one sweet and hungry. Bella fit perfectly in Edward's arms as if she had been made just for him. He told her he loved her as soon as he could admit it to himself. With no reservation or hesitation, she returned his love with her own. He didn't need to ask; she was his girl.

For Christmas that year, Edward gave Bella a small box from a jewellery store. It was a bit too soon for a ring, but Bella would have said yes if he had asked. Mr. Swan, on the other hand, would have peppered his ass with buckshot and smiled as he did. No, the small box held an enamelled brooch in the shape of a pair of cherries. Through her blushing, Bella had to recount the story of their meeting to both her family and his. Bella gave Edward a box of chocolate cigars in return. They smelled a hell of a lot better than the Cubans James had given Edward at the wedding

Within the following year they were engaged and shortly after, married. Their love grew every day for the thirty-eight years they were married. Two children, one of each, were born to them. Both were going to be at the station to pick Edward up when he arrived.

One of the doors hissed open, startling Edward out of his memories and back to the present, in the year 2000. The young couple from before walked back through the gangway, the young girl smiling at Edward with a gleam in her eye. The boy had his arms full of snacks.

Emmett had driven his Uncle Edward to Chicago; Edward wanted to make the train trip back to Sioux Falls by himself. Breast cancer had stolen his Bella from him. She'd fought it so hard for years, but lost. Edward couldn't think of a better way to celebrate his love and say good-bye than on the same route where they'd met all those years ago. Their kids had wanted to accompany him, but he begged for the trip alone. For the whole ride, on the seat beside him was a bag of cherries, this time grown in Chile and shipped to Chicago, as well as a small jar with some of Bella's ashes. The cherries were extraordinarily expensive and really hard to find, but Emmett phoned around the entire city to locate them. Now that they were halfway through the trip, Edward mixed some of the ashes with the cherry pits. Hoping to hell he wasn't caught, Edward stood in the space between the cars where they were coupled together. Through the small gap, he sprinkled the ashes and cherry pits onto the tracks, watching as they disappeared.

"Good-bye, my love." He spoke quietly. In his mind he could hear her laughter. The naughty, 'I know I'm going to catch shit for this' laughter that was his favourite. He could picture her egging him on, as she did. Their marriage wasn't perfect, they fought from time to time. She did things that drove him nuts and he irked the hell out of her. But they loved; every day they loved, every hour they loved until she was gone.

Edward walked back to his seat for the rest of the journey. He watched as they passed acre upon acre of farmland. The towns were bigger, the stops fewer with less care taken for cleanliness. When he got home, he'd meet up with their kids and families. They'd leave some of Bella's ashes in other places that meant something to her, her family's old farm, the tree she liked to read under, the garden she tended. Her memorial was held in the farm's side yard where Edward had planted a grove of cherry trees and bushes. For their first anniversary he planted one to make her laugh, but the damn thing didn't produce any fruit. For the next five years he did the same thing, to no avail. Then he found Nanking cherry bushes and they flourished. The fruit wasn't the same, but close enough. Bella liked to make jellies and cordials when the fruit was ripe.

In the years to come, the next generation and the one after that would take over working the land, Edward would let Bella's kitchen garden shrink, little by little; he didn't need nearly a quarter of the produce Bella nurtured and sure as shit couldn't cook as well as she did. But he'd add a new cherry tree to the grove every year for her until the end of his days.

**Thank you for reading.**


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